Случайность

The longer you do something, the more serendipity feels like inevitability.

As we were getting this issue ready for press, editor Maria Antonova and I were considering what to cover in our Trends section.

On June 5, Maria emailed, “Maybe we could do it about divorce.”

The idea didn’t wow me, but I was curious why she thought it was “trending.” I didn’t have long to wait.

The next day, after appearing together in public for the first time in months, President Putin and his wife Ludmila announced they were getting a divorce, because they just don’t spend much time together.

Some might think this was случайность, or happenstance. I know better. Maria sensed something in the air. Or maybe she has an inside informant.

My story about Russian bees in this issue had a similar, though admittedly less dramatic sense of случайность.

I had been hearing about Russian bees since about 2000, and thought we should do a story on them. Then, about a month before my planned trip to Russia last fall, over 300 members of the Eastern Apiary Society suddenly (to me, anyway) showed up in Vermont, holding their annual meeting in the state for the first time in many years. I attended, talked to beekeepers and began learning about this thriving, fascinating subculture. The ball was rolling.

A few weeks later, in Moscow, I visited the large honey market held at Kolomenskoye, where I was dazzled by the wild array of honeys on offer. Days later, in St. Petersburg, walking down a narrow street a few blocks from Nevsky after a Brubeck Brothers concert, I stumbled across Pchyolkin Myod, a bright yellow store offering all manner of bee products, from honey and wax to toothpaste made with propolis. (I should not have been surprised, there are at least a half-dozen bee-product stores in St. Petersburg; Russians are serious about their apitherapy.)

I continued researching the story after returning to the US, talking to more beekeepers and experts, learning the extent to which Russian bees have infiltrated the US bee population. The story was shaping up, but something was missing. Then in January my wife bought me a present. It was a bottle of vodka, distilled entirely from honey by a company in Vermont. Serendipitously, that bottle provided the ending to this story that I was looking for.

Of course, sometimes all the signs are there and you just don’t see them. Back in 2008, in Moscow, a trusted friend suggested I interview a certain activist who was trying to get Russians, and their government, to focus on corporate corruption. He arranged an interview for me, so I went.

The interview was in a dingy blue office a few blocks from the Moscow river. I found the man interesting and articulate, but the Q&A was only mildly interesting. Not convinced there was a story there, I didn’t pursue it any further.

Over the next few years that activist, Alexei Navalny, went on to become one of the most outspoken, influential opposition leaders in Russia. He is now in court in Kirov, in what most consider a trumped up, politically motivated trial.

Enjoy the issue.